


Caged Bird

by Keibey



Series: you are the angel I chained to the ground [2]
Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 09:44:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5703121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keibey/pseuds/Keibey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was quickly obvious that Slaine was his responsibility.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caged Bird

**Author's Note:**

> For Slaine Week prompt, "After the Finale," but you know, a day late. Happy birthday, Slaine! /o/

The UFE was convinced he was exactly where he needed to be in case a rescue attempt was made, but Inaho was only visiting Slaine daily to take care of the injuries everyone else was willfully overlooking. The spark of recognition came faster into the green eyes with every visit, and Slaine was more responsive, sometimes answering questions in flat tones when they weren’t sitting in charged silence.

The bewildered undercurrent surfaced then – his left eye picked it up in the wavelengths of the blond’s voice, and in Slaine’s less guarded moments, he saw it in the green eyes.

None of it was as remotely animated as that time the blond held onto him like he was the only thing left in the world, but he wasn’t particularly looking for such a reaction. The continued stress of breakdowns would only make Slaine’s condition deteriorate. Inaho simply filed the incident away as something that stayed between them.

He didn’t notice anything out of place at first when he stepped into the cell that day, but there was a tiredness in Slaine that was out of place. The blond was slower to react to his presence, and Slaine didn’t turn his head so much as let it loll to the side, the green eyes strangely blank as they focused on him. 

The bruise on the left cheek was stark against the pale skin, and the lip was bright red where it had been split.

The emotion that accompanied the spike in his heartbeat was unfamiliar, his left eye instantly starting diagnostics on his vitals at the unexpected jump. Inaho didn’t change his trajectory, sitting down on the edge of the cot and opening the first aid kit as he did every time. He cut away the old bandages with a steady hand, unsurprised to find that the injury on Slaine’s side had reopened. Inaho redid the dressings without a word.

It was only when he was sure those were immaculate that he stood and gently tipped Slaine’s face up into the light, and he carefully cleaned away the blood from the lips. It wasn’t large enough to require stitches, but from the mess, Slaine had obviously not bothered even wiping at it.

“You’re not going to ask?” The question drew Inaho’s attention from the cut, the green eyes as dull as the voice.

“Would you tell me if I did?” The silence was all the answer Inaho needed, and he switched to smooth ointment over the cut.

“Were there any birds on your way here?” Slaine’s lips moved under Inaho’s thumb, and there was something he hadn’t heard before in the quiet voice. _Uncertainty_ , his left eye supplied. “Outside.”

Inaho had been about to point out that the distinction was unnecessary before his left eye interrupted with _That was missing the point_. “There were a few.” His answer only seemed to make Slaine withdraw further, the cell was ill suited for long term confinement. The analytical engine whirred as it settled into looking for forms on transferring high profile prisoners of war.

He cleaned up and left without a word. Inaho pushed aside examining the strange feeling sitting in his chest as he made his way back to the medical bay, searching through overheard chatter for the base with the worst living conditions and the most short-tempered supervisors instead. He had found what he was looking for by the time he had returned the first aid kit and pulled open the little fridge in the infirmary – just paperwork stood between him and the security in knowing that no one would touch Slaine again. 

There were ice packs heaped at the back of the fridge like Inaho had expected, and he removed one, wrapping it in his unused handkerchief to cut the chill. The unfamiliar emotion had abided by the time he was back in the cell, calmly meeting the slightly surprised look Slaine sent him. He massaged the lumps out of the pack before pressing it gently to the bruise, letting a moment pass for the blond to react before he grabbed hold of Slaine’s hand to replace his own. The fingers remained limp under his touch.

“There’s always the option of taping it to your face.”

The green eyes lighted with the fire Inaho hadn’t seen since that time, and Slaine jerked away from his touch, holding onto the ice pack stubbornly. Inaho let his arms drop back to his sides, and he turned to leave. “I’ll pick it up tomorrow.”

“I’m not going to thank you.”

Inaho didn’t pause as he finished locking up the cell. “I don’t expect you to.”

Slaine had settled down onto the cot, arranging the ice to stay on his face with the ease of practice. It was obvious that the blond was used to injuries, and combined with the learned helplessness there was only one conclusion to be drawn. The foreign feeling came back at the thought, stronger than before. The Count he had seen on the broadcasts was fierce and determined, charismatic, and in battle the blond was quick in mind and control –

Inaho pushed past the doors and headed back towards the Deucalion.

 

 

The sun had risen by the time Inaho had considered all his resources exhausted in terms of places for Slaine’s transfer, and he set the printouts of the five best options into a file. His left eye whirred with anticipated responses from the blond and offered the probability of each, but the numbers didn’t change his mind. He had gone into battle with worse odds.

The base was quieter so early in the morning. No one questioned him as he made his way to the cells, too familiar with his presence. The warden stopped him at the checkpoint to look through his things, and Inaho filled the silence with his customary question. “What is Slaine Troyard’s condition?”

“The usual,” the man sighed, flipping through the file too quickly to have read anything, “Barely touches his food, doesn’t answer questions. Hard to tell if he’s even alive sometimes.”

“I see.” His left eye quietly matched up the projected trajectory of Slaine’s condition with the update. It was obvious that without outside influence, the blond wouldn’t improve.

“It’s a waste of food, really.” The warden abruptly looked up at him, searching his expression in a nervous manner. “I meant the quality of prison food, sir! It’s worse than emergency rations.”

 _Horrible liar_ , the device commented, and Inaho shrugged his holster back on as he filed the information away. He was reaching out to retrieve the folder when the tablet sitting on the warden’s desk fuzzed in static, the clear image from the sitcom cutting out, and instantly Inaho was on alert. The quality was low, as with every other pirated broadcast, but the figure in the wheelchair was unmistakeable.

“Hear me, Orbital Knights of Vers, I am Asseylum Vers Allusia, the Princess Royal of the Vers Empire.” The confident voice carried over the static, and his left eye ran over the wavelengths for the stress of a lie and found none. “The conflict began from a single spark,” an understatement in terms of personal harm, only further proof of identity, “and has grown into a massive war.”

Inaho angled himself to better see the screen, attention divided between the speech and the device’s analyses. “I hereby succeed the previous emperor, Rayregalia Vers Rayvers, and name myself Empress of the Vers Empire. I also take Count Crutheo, member of the Orbital Knights’ 37 Clans, to be my husband.” It was an indirect rejection he had expected, and he focused instead on his left eye’s calculation for Slaine’s chances of survival at this turn of events.

“In the name of the Empress of Vers,” she continued steadily, “I command all Orbital Knights to sever ties with the mastermind of my assassination, the late Slaine Saaz–”

The wavelengths faltered there, but Inaho had no time to process the lie; yells of surprise and sounds of a struggle came around the corner, and he took off at a run. The cell door was wide open, two guards trying to subdue Slaine on the ground. Inaho felt himself freeze for a moment at the sight of the blood running down a torn maroon sleeve, the knife in the blond’s other hand, the way Slaine struggled like a wild animal. His eye calculated the trajectory of the wound, the grip on the knife, and came to the same conclusion he had: _The wound was self-inflicted._

Logic crashed into a surge of emotion to propel him into motion, and he quickly knelt by Slaine’s head to pin down the blond’s shoulders, but the added restraint only made Slaine buck up harder with a snarl. He could hear shouting and running footsteps around him, his left eye alerting him to the medical personnel grabbing the bleeding arm.

“Slaine Troyard – Troyard!” The call did nothing. Inaho moved his hands to each side of Slaine’s face. “Look at me, Slaine!” The green eyes finally turned to him, determined and bright, and it was a mockery that they look the most alive when Slaine was trying to take his own life.

The momentary distraction was enough. Green eyes widened in surprise at the injection and Slaine’s struggling renewed, but the sedative worked fast. His left eye kept track of the blond’s vitals as the flailing arms and legs became weaker, and he watched the fight go out of Slaine's eyes.

“You can move off him now,” Inaho said flatly when the guards kept Slaine’s limp body pinned to the ground, unimpressed by their reluctant movements. He carefully lifted the blond to sit against him, curling an arm around Slaine’s back to keep them stable. His gaze landed on the abandoned knife. “Tell me what happened.”

“He pulled a knife on us from nowhere!”

Inaho lifted his head to look at the man who had spoken. “That’s an UFE issued knife, and you’re missing yours.” His left eye was whirling, reverse engineering simulations, but it all required the guards to be closer than their patrol should have been. “You were abusing him.”

“You can’t prove that!” The analytical engine caught a note of fear in the wavelength of the man’s voice.

“That’s not my responsibility.” There was warmth seeping through his clothes, reminding him that his attention was better used elsewhere. “Report to your CO. I will join you later.” There was a moment of tense silence, but one nudged the other, and they retreated down the hall.

It was too easy for Inaho to slip his other arm behind Slaine’s knees and lift the blond onto the cot, the difference his left eye noted between the new and the old calculated weight making him frown. Slaine didn’t resist, not even seeming to notice when Inaho loosened the torn shirt to check the damage. The green eyes were dull and blank like the blond had completely withdrawn into himself after the outburst.

It felt much like backsliding to zero. Inaho focused on examining the bloodied arm, carefully pulling the sleeve away before lifting it to the light. It wasn’t as deep as he would have expected; one of the guards must have reacted fast enough to intervene. “This will need disinfecting and sutures,” he addressed the nurse still hovering uncertainly nearby, and her demeanor changed instantly as she moved a little closer to see.

“I will get the supplies,” she agreed and left, her flat soled shoes echoing in the hallway. Inaho sat down onto the cot beside Slaine, his eyes settling on the neat cut through the pale skin.

It was incomprehensible to him for Slaine to attempt suicide so many days after not having reacted to anything at all. “Why did you do that?” he asked, lifting his head to look straight into the green eyes. There was no response. Inaho couldn’t read people, but he could read patterns. His left eye agreed; _the Princess_.

He also knew when there wasn’t a point in pursuing a topic.

“I researched for places you could be transferred to,” he said instead, and waited until Slaine gave him a side-eye look of resignation. “Look through them and choose the one you prefer.”

Slaine stared at him blankly, and Inaho was about to repeat himself when those lips finally parted. “Why are you doing this?” The blond’s voice sounded tired with more than just drugs. “Why do you keep coming back?”

It was a question he didn’t readily have an answer to. The split second decision to grab the Tharsis’ outstretched hand and hold on came to his mind inexplicably, but the sound of the nurse’s returning footsteps shattered it.

The nurse handed him a flashlight without a word, and she knelt down in front of them. “I’m going to disinfect and put a local anesthetic before stitching this up,” she explained with a quick reassuring smile, hands confident and efficient. Inaho kept his eyes on the needle, the light at an optimal angle.

“Could you tell the warden to come here with the keys and the folder I brought with me?” he asked as she pulled the needle through the skin for the last time.

“Of course.” She cleaned up with the practiced ease of muscle memory, and she stood. “Please take care of yourself.” The nuance Inaho failed to fully grasp, his left eye did, but Slaine barely react at all.

“I want to know the real Slaine,” he offered into the silence the nurse’s fading footsteps left behind, “not the one the Empress knew, not the one who almost became Emperor of Vers." Inaho expected no response, but he heard Slaine take in a steadying breath.

“There’s nothing. I’ve deceived, stole, killed.” The voice was quiet, and his left eye automatically scanned for the telltale signs of another breakdown. “It’s the least I can do to fulfill the Princess’ last request. Why would you save me?”

“Is wanting to know you not enough?” Inaho said honestly, finding his gaze drawn to his hand and the phantom feel of kataphrakt controls. There must have been something in his tone, his words, because when he looked up Slaine was staring at him with an unreadable expression. The warden rounded the corner just as he was about to ask, and he stood to take the folder and pass it to Slaine.

Inaho let a moment, then two, pass in silence, and then Slaine reached out to accept it with a trembling hand.

It came as no surprise that Slaine was immediately moved into a space more convenient for enforcing a suicide watch. “They left his stuff in his old cell,” the warden informed him tiredly when he walked in. His left eye offered, _stressed_ , likely from supervising the move. Inaho started down the hall without a word.

His left eye whirled in another reminder that he hadn’t slept in the last forty-eight hours, but he ignored it. Time had been of an essence; it was fortunate that his superiors were in a different time zone, leaving him with more time during the day to prepare his arguments for alternatives to a bullet in Slaine’s head. A few sleepless nights of video conferences were well worth the freedom he had wrangled from them.

Inaho found himself glancing down at his hand again. It was the same feeling from when they had been falling to Earth – if he let go, Slaine would die.

Shaking off the thought as he stepped into the empty cell, Inaho took a cursory look over the haphazard way the clothes had been left on the cot. They were a lost cause, torn and bloodied. There was a glint of silver on top of the maroon fabric that caught his eye, a shape familiar in his hands when he picked it up. He paused for a moment before he put the necklace around his neck, slipping it under his shirt. The pendant felt cold against his skin; he wasn’t sure why he would expect anything else with the metal away from Slaine’s body heat for so long.

Ingrained habit made him pat down the pockets of the torn uniform, too many laundry days when he had to empty out coins and tissues and wrappers from Yuki-nee’s clothes, and he stumbled on his handkerchief, curiously tucked in the inside jacket pocket. Inaho removed it and placed it back in his pocket.

Vers red over his arm got a few looks as he made his way to the infirmary, but no one stopped him to ask. He opened the door and saw the nurse from yesterday, and at the noise she got up. “I thought you’d come by.” 

“How did you know?” he asked, trading the clothes for the first aid box the nurse handed to him. 

She just gave him smile. “I just had a feeling.” 

The route to Slaine’s new cell was longer than from the one before, hastily put together in a larger, empty room. Inaho took a seat on the metal chair and set the box down, watching the blond across from him shift restlessly. _Upset by the glass_ , his left eye noted; maybe it was the lack of the pretense of privacy. “Did you choose one?”

Slaine didn’t speak, but the blond slid a sheet of paper across the table to him. It was the institution that had a garden, and he found himself almost smiling. Inaho rubbed at his left eye absently as it tinged with yet another reminder, attention focused on the transfer forms he had out.

“Even with Vers technology you can’t have a bionic eye. Not without consequences.” Inaho looked up – Slaine rarely broke their silences. The blond was watching him, expression unreadable.

“The risks were worth the benefits,” he said simply, “It was war.”

“We’re not at war now.” Inaho wasn’t sure what the point of the statement was, and he stared back blankly. Slaine sighed and shook his head, muttering, “Nevermind.”

 _Expressing concern_ , his left eye clarified, and it sounded suspiciously like the exasperated tone that Yuki-nee used on him when he was being, in her eyes, particularly dense. Inaho let the topic drop. "You can't use your last name; Slaine is common enough, but ‘Slaine Troyard' is notorious."

"What do you suppose I do, take 'Kaizuka'?" the blond said, letting out a huff of a breath that might have been a snort.

Inaho blinked. "If you want." Slaine merely stared at him for a long moment before turning away. The motion bared the blond’s neck and brought his eye to the conspicuous lack of silver. Inaho reached back and undid the clasp of the necklace, holding the chain to let the pendant dangle. “I’m returning this.” 

“They will never let me keep it.”

“I’ll tell them you will be more cooperative with it.”

“And will I?” The words were flat, the green eyes sharp with a calculative gaze he hadn’t seen on Slaine before. 

Inaho shrugged. “If they’re convinced that it will help, they will see a change whether there is one or not.”

He didn’t move, and Slaine eventually held out a hand, palm up. Inaho watched the silver chain spool into the pale hand, the reverent way Slaine closed slender fingers over the necklace, and he reached into his pocket to pull out the handkerchief too. Slaine eyed the little square of fabric warily, and his left eye found a touch of incredulity in the gaze. 

“You seem fond of it,” he explained simply, placing it on the blond’s side of the table. 

The handkerchief was gone when he looked up from the completed paperwork, and Slaine met his eyes defiantly. _Expecting mockery_ , the device supplied, but Inaho didn’t see anything to mock. He just stood and walked around the table to kneel down beside the blond’s chair, picking up Slaine’s arm carefully to examine the bandages. It was relatively clean – the nurse had changed them while he had been busy. Inaho pushed away the strange pang of emotion to settle into redressing all the wounds for the day. 

“Could you,” Inaho paused in the middle of tucking the ends of the bandages that wrapped around Slaine’s chest, “put it on me.” The green eyes weren’t looking at him, and he followed them past the swaf of bandages to the hand holding the pendant. 

He nodded and straightened. It felt strange to stand behind Slaine; there was something vulnerable in the curve of Slaine’s neck, bowed slightly forward. His fingers brushed against skin as he pulled the necklace around to fasten the clasp, making Slaine freeze but not flinch. Even his left eye couldn’t discern whether it was a gesture of trust or resignation. 

The blond was clutching the pendant when he moved back around to his side of the table – seeking comfort, the analytical engine noted. Slaine didn’t speak again, seemingly preoccupied with thoughts. Inaho checked over the transfer papers for mistakes and found the only blank left was behind Slaine’s name. 

He paused only for a moment before he penned in Kaizuka.

 

 

The warnings from his left eye go from intermittent to regular in less than a week after the conversation with Slaine, and Inaho admitted that the risks were finally outweighing the benefits. The surgeon explained that he need a month’s bedrest after the operation – Inaho automatically shortened the time by two weeks. 

He went about his business as usual, arguing with the UFE on one side while preparing the faculty for Slaine’s transfer on the other. It wasn’t as simple as changing names; he needed to ensure Slaine’s secret was carefully guarded, and that discovery wouldn’t endanger the blond’s wellbeing. He interviewed each of the institution staff, spinning an airtight backstory of Slaine being a prominent military general’s illegitimate son. 

His left eye seemed almost eager in its final task, and Inaho went into the surgery with a confident list of people. The room was familiar in the way all operating rooms were: sterile, cold, bright lamp overhead. The general anesthesia smarted and felt like ice as it was pumped into the vein on the back of his hand, and he listened to the nurse count steadily to ten. 

He was unconscious before the man reached four. 

The first thing he noticed when he regained consciousness was that the world was quieter without the soft whirring of the analytical engine and the almost voice in his head. Inaho blinked against the bright fluorescent lights in the hospital ceiling; everything was flat again, lacking stereopsis for depth. He carefully tilted his head to the side, unsurprised to find Yuki-nee sleeping in the chair beside his bed. 

Inaho reached over, more coordinated this time without the casts and bandages, and pulled up the blanket. His sister stirred but didn’t wake, and he turned his attention to the rest of the room. Someone had left him flowers, and likely Yuki-nee had put them into a vase for him. On the table at the foot of his bed was a manila envelope, and for a moment he had a feeling of deja vu. 

He took his time, letting the mechanisms built into the bed prop the head of it up until he was sitting. His fingers were trembling slightly from the effort as he pulled the table towards him, but he ignored it; lucidity would be rare between the aftereffects of the anesthesia and the painkillers dripping into his IV. He opened the envelope and pulled the documents all the way out, scanning the text quickly. A promotion, jumping several positions straight to general. The rest was likely the contract and the handbook, and flipping experimentally to random pages confirmed it.

He was reading the section on technicalities when Yuki-nee woke, and she almost knocked her chair. 

“Nao-kun, you’re not supposed to do anything!” she scolded, snatching the documents out of his hands. “How are you feeling?” 

“I’m fine,” he said evenly, “Do you have a pen?” 

She started patting down her pockets even as she asked, bemused, “Why?” 

“I have to accept my promotion papers.” 

“Promotion?” Yuki-nee echoed, obviously not quite awake, and she glanced down at the papers as though she realized what she was holding for the first time, “Ah, to General! You won’t have to fight on the front lines anymore!” There was a throb in his left eye – no, where his left eye used to be – and Inaho didn’t point out how his previous rank didn’t require a security detail with him at all times. 

“When are you going to get promoted, Yuki-nee?” he asked instead, deadpan, and there was something assuring in watching her threateningly wave the pen she had finally found. 

The doctor came to give him a cursory check soon after he had signed the papers, and he sat through the examination calmly while his sister fidgeted, unsurprised that the only instructions he had was to rest. Yuki-nee immediately took it as her having to leave, taking the signed paperwork with her. “Go to sleep, Nao-kun.” 

“You didn’t leave me with anything to do anyway,” he pointed out, and she shook her head, reaching out to carefully ruffle his hair. 

It was easy to fall asleep with the drug cocktail in this system, and Inaho next woke from a dreamless sleep to see Yuki-nee back in the chair, flipping through a magazine. “Good morning,” he said, and she looked up and smiled. 

“Good morning!” She put the magazine onto the nightstand, rolling the table up his bed instead. Inaho sat up obediently. “They sure worked fast; you got your official papers and everything.” 

Inaho took in the envelopes and bags; the bag was likely his new uniform, and the manila envelope must be from the military, but the smaller one was less identifiable. The paper was fancy, thick and heavy, and he opened it to find an invitation from the Empress, to meet at his convenience while she was on Earth. Suddenly the rushed promotion made sense. 

He put the envelopes down; he would have time to consider his response later, when he was in between doses again and Yuki-nee was gone. “Have you been eating take out?” 

“Everyone has been!” she said defensively, “We’re on official shore leave.” 

“We should start looking for a place,” Inaho reasoned, and wondered where Yuki-nee had hidden his phone, “Housing prices will rise when the negotiations settle.” 

The look she gave him was soft and she reached out to pat his hand. “I’m still part of the crew; you don’t have to worry about that for now. I can take your stuff to the Deucalion, and you can pick it up when you get assigned somewhere.” 

He nodded, feeling the edges of his senses dull slightly – another dose of morphine into his IV. Experience told him he would be asleep in a few moments. “If I move out, you’ll have to do your own chores.” 

“I can do them!” The indignant tone made him smile. 

“There’s room for improvement,” he said quietly as he laid back down at a wave of lethargy, and never heard what comeback Yuki-nee had come up with. 

It was morning when Inaho woke, which was a happy coincidence; he caught the doctor making rounds, and he talked the man into discharging him at the end of the week, under strict orders not to overwork himself. He remembered not to remind the doctor that he had been through the same recovery process once before. 

Yuki-nee was unimpressed when she heard about what he had done that afternoon, looking at his IV drip and shaking her head. “You’re going to be in a lot of pain, Nao-kun.” 

“I know. They have to cut back the morphine eventually,” he said simply, because it was the truth, and his sister just sighed. 

“I guess this is good timing,” she conceded grudgingly, handing him the tablet he had asked for, “Inko and the others are visiting this afternoon.” 

Inaho’s eye tracked to the flowers. “We’re still technically at war.” 

“Official shore leave,” she reminded him gently, “And they miss you! Inko has been beside herself. I thought I told you to let them know you were going into surgery.” 

“They would find out from you anyway.” Inaho opened the word processing program and started to type a reply to the Empress’ invitation. He didn’t intend for the meeting to be long; it was best to request breakfast or tea with them, versus a meal. 

“You’re _supposed_ to tell people these things yourself, Nao-kun!” Yuki-nee shook her head, but she moved on quickly, too used to him. “What are you going to do with all these novels?” 

“I need to assess them to make sure they adhere to the guidelines,” he answered, finishing up his brief letter. “Yuki-nee, could you look this over for me?” 

“Eh?” She leaned over, eyebrows scrunched up as she read. “Nao-kun, you can’t say that to the _Empress_!”

“The grammar is correct.” 

“It’s not the gram– Just give it here.” Inaho let her snatch it out of his hands, reaching over to get started on the stack of novels as she grumbled and started correcting. 

The letter came out more neutral than Inaho had expected, but Yuki-nee had more experience with formal letters, writing them since she was young. She promised not to change anything before she went and got it printed, putting his tablet back into the bag she had brought as a sort of visual assurance. 

“Oh, I added another novel that wasn’t on your list.” She lightly tapped the spine of one of the books with a smile. “I saw it at the bookstore, and I thought that whoever you gave these to might like it.” 

Inaho read the title. “It was one of your favourites.” 

“It’s a good story,” she defended, leaning forward in her seat as if that would help convince him, “You don’t know what that person likes, right? Maybe they’ll find it cute too.” 

“Maybe,” he agreed, turning back to the book he had started as he mentally rearranged the order that he had planned to read them in. Yuki-nee pulled out what looked like a manual and started reading. 

It was almost five in the afternoon when Inaho put down his book. He heard them before they had even opened the door, and he watched the four of them burst into the room. “Inaho!” Inko rushed over to his bedside, “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” he answered automatically, glancing over to see Nina elbow Calm out of the way and pull Rayet along. “You cut your hair.” 

Her hand immediately flew to her hair, and she started blushing. “Oh, um, I–” 

“Do you like it?” Nina cut in with a smile, and Inko whipped her head around to her like she wanted to yell at the girl. Rayet only rolled her eyes, sticking her hands deeper into her pockets. 

“It’s different,” he pointed out evenly, “You gained weight too.” Inaho eyed Calm, who was snickering near the foot of his bed. “All of you did.” 

Inaho blinked at the collective outrage, and he looked at the Versian girl who had only shrugged. “We don’t move around a lot in peacetime.” 

“Rayet, don’t agree with him!” Inko said in despair, covering her face in embarrassment. 

Nina puffed out her cheeks the way she always did when she was annoyed. “That’s it, I’m making you both my pack mules next time.” 

“We always carry your bags,” Inaho shrugged, and somehow it made Calm laugh. 

“You seem perfectly fine, man,” Calm said with a grin, “We shouldn’t have bothered to get you flowers.” 

Rayet snorted. “if we didn’t go buy flowers, they’d have spent the morning feeding birds.” 

“You can’t feed birds bread,” he started, but Inko interrupted him before he could continue. 

“Or they’ll get angel wing, we know. You’ve been saying that since elementary school.” 

“I thought it was fun,” Nina supplied, “The birds really liked Calm and was standing all over him.” 

“I didn’t like it!” 

The other stories were in the same vein. Just talking shouldn’t have been as tiring as it was, but Inaho didn’t have a comparative experience, unlike the surgery and the drugs. There hadn’t been time for them to visit last year. 

Nina looked at him thoughtfully for a moment before announcing that they would need to leave to line up for a restaurant. “Yuki-san, you should come with us! We haven’t seen you much lately either, and we can bring Inaho-kun next time if it’s good.” 

His sister glanced at him and then her watch before replying, “Yeah, that sounds good!” Yuki-nee gathered her things with a reluctance he could recognize, and they left with various versions of well wishes. “I’ll come by with a car to bring you back.” 

“Thanks, Yuki-nee,” he said, and watched the door shut behind them. 

Inaho lost rest of the week in the novels, but he was packed already when Yuki-nee arrived to pick him up. 

“Do you have my phone?” he asked as she walked in. 

“Was there someone you wanted to call?” His sister rummaged around her bag and pulled it out. 

He took the phone, glancing at the screen; it was powered off, of course. He pocketed it and shouldered his duffel bag. “I wanted to check on someone.” 

“Someone?” she echoed in confusion, following him out into the hall, “You could have used the payphones.”

“It’s not that simple,” he answered; if it wasn’t an encrypted line he wouldn’t even mention Slaine’s name. Inaho stood in front of the elevator buttons and paused. “Do you remember where you parked, Yuki-nee?” 

“Of course I do!” His sister reached over to mess up his hair, too careful to be truly mad at him, and pushed the button. 

 

 

Inaho stepped into the landing castle as an invited guest, and the feeling was distinctly different from the last time he had been within one. He had expected Eddelrittuo to greet him, but it was a maid he had never seen before, and she tried to make small talk as she led him through the halls. The room she showed him to was larger than it needed to be, with the couch and table arranged by the artificial fireplace to leave most of the floor bare. 

The Empress was much like when he had last saw her, although she was wearing a different white dress than before. Her green eyes still shone, but something had changed about them. “Inaho-san.” Her greeting was friendly, sincere, and he inclined his head respectfully. “This is Klancain Crutheo, my fiancee.” 

It was the first time that he had met Klancain, and his first impression was blue, the icy blue of thick glaciers in the north. “It’s nice to meet you,” Inaho intoned automatically, and he accepted the handshake from the Count. 

“The pleasure is all mine.” The Emperor let go of his hand with a smile. “Asseylum has spoken a lot about you – I must thank you for protecting her.” 

Inaho glanced at Seylum-san and gave the same answer he did two years ago. “It was war.” 

“I appreciate it nonetheless.” Klancain’s smile didn’t change, gesturing to the couch opposite of them. “Please take a seat, Inaho-san. I hope peace has found you well.” 

“I’ve been fine,” he offered as he sat down, “There wasn’t much else apart from removing my bionic eye.” 

“Was something wrong?” Asseylum’s gaze flickered to the medical patch over his left eye; it was probably their upbringing that had made her and Klancain ignore it politely the whole time. 

“The AI was mapped onto my brain,” Inaho said simply, and Klancain nodded understandingly. 

“It is unfortunate that the risks are so high.” It was hard to place the polite expression on the Emperor’s face as Klancain poured tea. “I doubt even Aldnoah could perfect the technology.” 

“Perhaps it’s better that it cannot perfected,” the Empress’ voice was solemn, “Not many could be trusted with such technology.” 

Inaho shrugged as he accepted his cup of tea. “Not many would willingly remove an eye.” 

“We should be grateful for that,” Klancain agreed goodnaturedly, taking a sip of the tea, “If I may be so bold, you don’t seem like the type either, Inaho-san.” 

“Slaine Troyard shot my eye,” he answered, and he set down the cup without drinking. “You implicated him officially, but didn’t expose Seylum-san’s imposter.” 

“It would have only caused more problems if we implicated her.” Klancain’s reply was calm, expression serious. 

“I acknowledge that this lie is unfair to Slaine,” the Empress was similarly composed, but with an air of sadness, “but in the end, she may have stolen my image and name, yet she is still my sister. The fault lies with the royal family for casting her away.” 

Inaho remembered Slaine in the glass room, the restlessness. “Are you keeping her imprisoned?” 

“No,” Asseylum shook her head sadly. “She had refused to leave her room until recently; news of Slaine’s death had upset her terribly. Now, she is her distracting herself with physiotherapy.” 

“Troyard was an admirable motivator.,” Klancain lightly set the cup down onto its saucer with barely a noise – the liquid’s meniscus hadn’t moved. “She had never requested training with an exoskeleton before.” 

“Charisma is necessary for a leader.” Inaho met icy blue eyes. He found himself comparing the colour and finding the Emperor’s lacking; he much prefered Slaine’s. His phone vibrating in his pocket made him break eye contact, and he pulled it out, the screen flashing a message from the new warden. News of his promotion must have spread quicker than he had thought. “I have to leave.” 

Klancain stood when he did. “It was nice meeting you, Inaho-san. Please take care.” 

“Farewell, Inaho-san.” 

Inaho only nodded in farewell to each of them, following the maid back into the maze of halls. She seemed as unconcerned with his lack of response as before, bringing him to the front door and curtseying deeply as he stepped out. “Please take care, Mr. Kaizuka.” 

The military truck was waiting for him, the driver only giving him a glance as he gave the institution’s address. It was a silent drive until the rain started coming down, pelting the windshield even against the fastest setting of the wipers. The building was barely visible past the water streaming down as they pulled up into the driveway. 

He hadn’t stopped to get an umbrella, the water soaking into the thick suit of his uniform and into his hair. It was a neat, clean facility, same as when he had arrived unannounced to inspect the place before, and the staff hurriedly got him towels as he stood dripping in their lobby. 

“I was told that Slaine had been transferred,” he said as tucked the wrapped box under his arm and accepted a towel, rubbing it absently through his hair. 

“Yes, they brought him a couple hours ago. He’s just down this way.” The orderly turned down into one of the wings, and Inaho followed. 

Slaine’s room was small, but it looked more like a room than a cell. His eye was immediately drawn to the sheet over what should be the mirror in the corner of the room, but he turned to the blond only to find the green eyes staring at him. “What?” 

“Your eye,” Slaine started, but didn’t say any more. 

Inaho touched the medical patch. “I had the analytical engine removed.” 

“That was why you stopped visiting?” A pale hand was clutched around the pendant through the blue shirt that the institution had provided; he remembered it was a tell. 

“I didn’t need it anymore,” he said simply, unwrapping the box he had brought with him. “Do you know how to play chess?” 

The blond was less than enthusiastic about the game, but it got the pale hand to uncurl from their grip around the necklace. Slaine’s expression was almost a grimace when the coin toss gave Inaho black – white fit the blond, anyway. They played in silence until endgame, when Slaine finally spoke. “You seem a bit off today.” 

Inaho paused in picking up his piece, meeting green eyes with a tilt of his head. The blond sighed quietly. “You suck.” 

“Do I?” He surveyed the board – it was a closer game than he had expected, but he still saw himself checkmating Slaine in three moves. “How would you know?” 

“I’ve fought you on the battlefield; they both rely on strategy. Did,” Slaine hesitated in moving a piece, “Did something happen?” 

“I had a meeting with the Empress and her fiancé.” He didn’t have to look up from the board to know Slaine had stiffened across from him. “We didn’t talk much.” 

“Is she,” the blond paused, and the swallow was almost audible, “well?” 

“Yes.” Inaho met the green eyes as he set his piece down. “Would you rather I have told her about you?” 

“No.” There was no hesitation in the answer, but Slaine rolled the knight around in slender fingers. “The world need someone to hate; Klancain was right to do that. If Asseylum-hime found out, it would only make her distressed.” 

Inaho picked up his queen wordlessly. “The imposter is undergoing physiotherapy.” 

Slaine straightened up slightly, green eyes bright. “She’s strong.” 

He nodded in acknowledgement, and then he made his move. “Checkmate.” 

“Thank you.” Slaine wasn’t smiling, but there was a shift that Inaho couldn’t understand. He started resetting the pieces. 

 

 

The workload that came with his new rank wasn't difficult, but it was numerous. His superiors continued to try and foist diplomatic missions onto him, but Inaho refused – it would interfere with his ability to visit Slaine. The increased workload was likely their attempt to pressure him. 

Inaho simply did his paperwork in the car. 

It had all settled into a routine, and so a sudden change in the behaviours of the guards at the institution stuck out. They looked almost wary when they opened the door to the room for hourly checks, and then they looked confused when they took in the sight of them. Inaho watched Slaine’s reaction to this development and noted the disgruntlement; unlike him, the blond understood. 

“Do the guards talk to you?” Inaho asked, pausing in filling out his paperwork. 

“They’re afraid to.” The green eyes were focused on the book of the week. It was the only compromise they had been able to reach, him bringing reading material for Slaine and the blond accepting chess challenges when Inaho needed a break from the monotony of paperwork. “I’ve heard them talking about the other two from before.” 

It seemed like Slaine only considered the matter a mild irritation. He nodded, turning his attention back to his papers. “They tried to give me another diplomatic mission this week.” 

“You?” Slaine sounded almost incredulous, and Inaho looked up with a raised an eyebrow. “You would offend them the moment you speak.” 

“I’m good at negotiations.” 

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Slaine turned back to his book, absently pushing a lock of hair out of green eyes. It was obviously becoming too long. 

Inaho stood after gathering his papers, and Slaine glanced up at him questioningly. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” 

“Hmm.” The blond turned back to the novel with a gesture that could have been a wave, or merely the motion for making something go away. 

A knock on the door got it unlocked, and Inaho waited for his ride in the waiting room, searching up haircutting techniques and theories on his phone. 

It seemed simple enough, although many things that were simple on paper weren't in practice. He texted Calm and Nina with his requests to practice on their hair, and he sensed bewilderment in their flat refusals. It was what he had expected, really, but they had the most similar hair texture to Slaine.

He met Yuki-nee in the cafe near the base for dinner, and he took in her long hair. It had grown out during the war, and it was likely his sister was putting off seeing a hairdresser out of sheer laziness. “Yuki-nee, can I cut your hair?” 

“Eh?” She looked up from the menu in confusion. “What’s this all of a sudden?” 

“I want to practice,” he answered simply, and his sister put down the menu altogether. 

“Why the sudden interest?” she asked, brown eyes curious, and then a smile spread across her face, “Are you looking to impress someone?”

“No.” 

“Aw, don’t be like that, Nao-kun!” She leaned forward onto her elbows conspiratorially. “You’ve been so secretive lately! Are you keeping some secret lover?” 

Inaho blinked. “What made you think that?” 

“You’ve been happier lately,” she hummed thoughtfully, “And you spend a lot of time where people can’t find you.” 

“I see,” he said and then turned back to his menu. 

“So was I right?” Yuki-nee waved a hand enthusiastically between him and the menu, but Inaho just ignored it. “Nao-kun!” 

His sister hadn’t agreed in the end, too derailed by her own interrogation, and Inaho simply retreated back to his room on the base. It was still early, and after a quick shower he plugged in his phone and continued searching for haircut tips. 

The staff at the institution was bemused when they saw the things Inaho had brought with him that day, but no one stopped him on the way to Slaine’s room. Slaine looked wary when he walked in with scissors, but he took it as a good sign. It was better than if he had been greeted with resignation. 

The blond sat down onto the chair Inaho had dragged into the middle of the room with too much dignity to be called meek. “You didn’t remove your boot knife today.” 

That wasn’t what Inaho had expected, and he paused briefly in pulling the barber’s cape around Slaine’s neck. “How did you know?” 

He didn’t wait for an answer, moving on to separate the blond hair into sections and clipping them out of the way. Inaho was just picking up the spray bottle to wet the strands when Slaine spoke. “Your footsteps sounded a bit different.” 

“You recognize them?”

“I had to.” Slaine shifted, and the cape’s material rustled restlessly. “It’s an old habit.” From Vers, then. Inaho wet the section and combed it through carefully once before grabbing the scissors and snipping away the ends. He had been right in his assessment; the ends were old and splitting. Even disregarding the length, it was time for a cut. 

“I’m not your pet.” 

Enough time had passed that Inaho was sure Slaine had considered not saying anything at all. “I never said you were,” he said calmly, not looking up from where he was cutting the hair on the crown of Slaine’s head. 

“Then why am I here?” There was the usual bafflement in the voice, but also an underlying desperation that hadn’t been there before. 

“I’m interested in you.” He didn’t know why Slaine suddenly tensed up, and glancing up to meet the green eyes in the mirror only made the blond look away. It was unusual; Slaine rarely looked away first. Maybe it was embarrassment? 

“Are you done?” 

Inaho blinked. He hadn’t noticed he was just combing his fingers through Slaine’s hair as he was thinking. “Just the front,” he said, moving to stand in front of the blond, “Close your eyes.” 

The green eyes cut back to him before Slaine complied, and Inaho gently tipped the blond’s chin up slightly to get a better angle. He straightened out the hair between his fingers and trimmed off the ends, watching some of it get caught on pale lashes. When he was satisfied with the way the blond hair fell into Slaine’s face, Inaho drew in a breath and blew the trimmings away. 

Slaine jerked back with a strangled noise of surprise, green eyes flying open. 

“Done,” he announced unnecessarily as he set down the scissors to pull off the cape, shaking it out onto the floor before folding it. 

“That was unnecessary,” Slaine said flatly. Inaho shrugged, picking up the broom and sweeping the floor. The blond hair looked even paler against the floor. “I’ll clean up.” 

“You’re not allowed to be armed.” 

“You’re the one who left the scissors on the table,” the blond countered, hand already on the broom handle and pulling insistently. Inaho released it, their hands brushing briefly. 

Slaine’s strength seemed to have returned, but it was only expected when the blond had been eating better ever since he started staying later to do his paperwork. 

  

 

It was both more difficult and easier to avoid having to travel for work with his rank, and Inaho eventually found himself boarding a plane for UFE headquarters. It would be a relatively short trip of three days, but he was sure no one involved was happy about spending time in close quarters with similar ranking people. 

At least, he was fairly certain none of them wanted anything to do with him. 

Inaho entered his hotel room on the first night with a vague sense of something missing, but everything he had was accounted for. The second day he sat in the meeting with his attention divided, turning the thought over and using the process of elimination to single out what he could have possibly forgotten. He went to sleep that night as unenlightened as he was that morning. 

It was on the third day that he realized what the feeling meant, when he looked across the table he was doing paperwork on and expected to see Slaine there. Inaho paused for a moment, letting the fact sink in, before he pulled out his tablet and began looking for an apartment. 

There were several locations that caught his eye, and he arranged to check them when he landed in Japan, documenting the pros and cons of each. He went to place the deposit that weekend, the contract signed and tucked safely in his pocket well before the time he was supposed to meet Inko and Nina. Inaho left the apartment and took the train back into town, easily spotting them at the station entrancet. 

“Inaho-kun!” Nina smiled, arms linked with Inko’s. “I’ve got a good feeling about that way.” 

That wasn’t much different from normal, and they started off in the direction the girl had pointed to. Inaho didn’t have much of an interest in any of the stores, not much for shopping outside of supermarkets, but the display at the window of the jewelry store caught his attention. 

The silver locket was a cage made of flowers and spirals, thin and delicate in a way that reflected the craftsmanship, but what caught his eye was the aquamarine stones inside. They were rough, more shards than cut gems, but they were a brilliant blue green, like clear water in the ocean. Inaho entered the store without without hesitation, and he could tell from the confused calls of his name that Inko and Nina followed him in. 

“Can I see that one?” Inaho asked the storekeeper, and the man glanced between him and the girls before cracking a smile. 

“This is real silver, handcrafted,” the man explained, pulling the necklace from its display case to lay it down against a black velvet sheet. “It’ll be a really nice present!” 

Inaho picked it up and examined it; the way the two halves latched together at the side, the delicate chain, the light weight. He felt Inko shift nervously beside him, and he glanced over to see Inko blushing and Nina beaming widely beside her. He tilted his head, but turned back to the storekeeper. “I’ll take it.” 

The man looked confused when he paid and slipped the locket into his pocket, but no one was forthcoming with the reason. 

The rain was back the next day, and Inaho was once again soaked when he walked into the institution lobby. The staff seemed to have been expecting it, and he took one of the offered towels again, drying his hair as he made his way down to Slaine’s room. 

The green eyes looked up from the book. “Have you never heard of an umbrella?” 

“I didn’t want to go back for one,” he answered, taking off his suit jacket and hanging it onto the back of his chair before he sat down. Inaho pulled the necklace out of his breast pocket and held it out to Slaine. The blond stared uncomprehendingly at it. “It’s a gift.” 

Slowly, Slaine cradled it into slender hands, examining the silver the same way Inaho had at the store. The blond held it up to the light to see the colours play in the gems inside, and then the green eyes looked right into his. 

“I’m not wearing two necklaces,” Slaine said and placed the locket onto the table, and Inaho thought that was that. 

Only Slaine reached up and took off the pendant that had always sat under the blue clothes. It was automatic for Inaho to reach out and let the blond drop it into his hand, metal warm against his palm. The scar on the inside of Slaine’s arm was a thin white line, paler than the rest of the skin and obvious to the eye when the blond fastened the new necklace around his neck. 

“I’m going to arrange for you to be transferred again,” Inaho said as he watched Slaine tuck the new locket under the blue shirt, and the blond gave him a raised eyebrow. “It’d be more convenient if you were staying with me.” 

Slaine stared at him for a long moment. “You’re moving me into your house for that reason!?” 

“Apartment,” he corrected automatically, “What’s wrong with it?” 

“What’s wrong–” The blond cut off midsentence, as if unable to continue. “No. I’m not going with you.” 

“It would cut the commute–” 

“No, Kaizuka Inaho.” Slaine seemed to have regain composure. “I’m not moving in with you just because your _commuting_ is inefficient.” 

Inaho tilted his head – it was a sound reason. “Then what if I wanted to be with you?” 

“Do you really?” Slaine asked, but the green eyes were avoiding his gaze now. “You can’t just keep someone who’s supposed to be dead for over a year in your _house_.”

“No death certificate exists for Slaine Troyard," he countered, "In any case you’ve been Kaizuka Slaine since you’ve been transferred here.” 

Slaine’s face turned a shade of red Inaho had never seen on the blond before. “What!?” 

“You suggested it yourself.” He watched Slaine’s mouth open and close, words seeming to have failed the blond. “If you don't want to, I won't force you.” 

The pale hand was clutching the locket through the shirt, so hard that the knuckles were turning white. “You’ve done too much for me already.” The words were quiet, uncertain. 

“I do what I can.” Inaho felt his hand twitch in response to phantom kataphrakt controls. “I decided that when I caught your hand as we fell.” 

The green eyes searched Inaho's face for a long moment, but Slaine seemed to find what he was looking for, and the nod was firm.


End file.
